


Gunpowder and Rot, Feelings Fester and Burn

by KitschyKit



Series: toy soldiers [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Double Dicks, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Knotting, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Other, Oviposition, Partial Mind Control, Polyamory, Rough Sex, Sirens, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Humiliation, space pirates are not good people surprise surprise, unbeta'd as per usual because it's 1 am whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-20 10:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22182271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitschyKit/pseuds/KitschyKit
Summary: “You take them so well. I’d break if they used me like that.” They tilt their head to the side, mandibles clicking. “It’s like you weremadefor it.”“Shut the fuck up Queenie,” he snarls, anger bubbling out of his throat. “Before I breakyou.”“You already did that yesterday,” they point out, and its with a happy sigh at the memory. “It’s your turn.”And Kane hates getting fucked, hehates it hates it,because he’s reduced to a being someone's little bitch, when he’d much rather be on top, doing anything and everything he wants, but Nero doesn’t let him do that—And sometimes, Kane just,snaps.Nero wants to play with a toy that won't break, and they drag a sleep-deprived Kane to bed. Rizka joins in on the fun, and together they push Kane a little too far.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Series: toy soldiers [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564972
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	Gunpowder and Rot, Feelings Fester and Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlight/gifts).



> Mind the tags, these characters are NOT the good guys, and thing might make more sense if you read the previous fic, which also has alien species explanations in the beginning notes. 
> 
> To and for Redlight. Cheers to these assholes and a series that hopefully grows.

It’s quiet on the ship when Nero pounces. 

They slide up behind Kane’s chair, muzzle already buried in Kane’s neck when he jumps, startled, and the huff of laughter is warm with the threat of teeth. “Come to bed.” 

Kane slouches further, trying to shrug Nero away. “Fuck off.”

He’d been irritable all day, steady in the pilot's seat with a scowl and deep deep purple bruises under his eyes. They’d gone through a quadrant known for random asteroids, and he’d stayed up for far too long getting them to the other side of it, and then just beyond that to be safe. “Someone’s actually gotta fly this piece of shit you know.” 

“Someone could also be warming my sheets, but instead you’re staring down at an empty radar.” 

“We still have to get to the next planet.” And fuck he hates being the reasonable one, but everything on this ship was _his_ , fighting and killing and fucking for every last scrap and he wasn’t going to lose it from being careless. 

Fangs nibble at his neck. “Isn’t it two days away?” 

Kane could have sworn it was only a day, and he doesn’t answer, gritting his sharp sharp teeth because doesn’t want to give away the fact that the hours are starting to blur together, and if he admits that he doesn’t know then it’ll just give Nero an excuse to fuck around with the navigation and lead them astray. 

The sign on his dashboard says “Don’t trust the Daemon” because Kane of all people should know better, his whole species lives and breathes sweet little lies, but he still needs something to stare at when Nero whispers in his ear. “Come. To. Bed.” 

“Where’s Riz?” 

“Asleep.” 

He knows damn well what that means. _Don’t trust—_

“So? Go bother them,” he grunts, because he has to at least _try_ to get out of it. “It’s what their holes are for.” 

Nero changes the subject, dancing and deflecting. “When was the last time you slept?” 

Too long. “Go _away,_ Nero.” 

“I don’t think I will.” And a heavy clawed hand drops to his thigh, nearly drawing blood even through his clothes. Nero’s cheek brushes his, _scent-marking_ him, _claiming_ him in a way that always makes Kane _furious_. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll put on autopilot and not refuse me a third time.” 

There’s a heartbeat of silence before Kane hisses and jabs at the button. He swings the chair around to face them, a snarl on his lips. “You’re a fucking bastard. Yeah you got my attention, _congratulations_ —“ 

The snarl morphs into a full growl as he’s dragged out of the chair, sharp claws digging into his skull to hold him still as a textured tongue licks into his mouth. 

Nero is rougher than usual, a bit more careless with teeth and claws, the hot press of their cock grinding against his stomach and _yeah,_ Kane was right; Rizzy might not even be asleep— Nero’s just looking for a toy that won’t break when they play with it, even though Kane _feels_ like he’s breaking down, because he hates being claimed, being pushed around and pushed down to his knees like a whore, hates the way he moans into Nero’s mouth when they grab his ass and _squeeze—_

“Get off of me,” he growls, blood spiking with the urge to lash out. “Don’t know why I haven’t thrown you out the airlock yet—” 

Nero’s whiskers brush against his skin as they curl into him, molding their bodies together. “Cot or floor?” 

He still has bruises on his knees the last time he had answered incorrectly. Kane presses down on them in the shower sometimes to re-live the ache. 

Kane sucks in a breath between clenched needle-teeth.“Cot.” 

“Perfect,” Nero’s smile was full of predatory mischief as they drag him into the bedroom. 

It wasn’t perfect. It never was— it was messy and a little bloody from the way Kane drew long stratches underneath Nero’s fur, cutting them up as Nero worked him open on his bed, purring disgusting half-sweet nothings in his ear and Kane curls his fingers into Nero’s jaw and kisses them hard and long and over and over again, just to get them to _stop fucking talking._

But then he was being guided onto a cock, and the kissing turned into a way to shut _himself_ up, hoping to hide broken little whimpers in the spaces between Nero’s fangs. 

“You say these _awful_ things to Rizka you know,” and Nero’s grinning, chest rumbling under Kane’s fingers, and he wants to claw under their skin and into their ribs-- he wants to make them _hurt_ for making him like this, and it’s worse because when he tries to do just that all he ends up doing is scrabbling weakly for leverage as Nero sinks him down onto their cock. “Makes me wonder what would happen if I said them to you.” 

“Don’t you dare,” he rasps, and it’s hitched up as Nero drags him back down, the knot at the base of their cock pushing at the rim of his hole. “I’ll kill you, I swear I will,” and it devolves from anger into helpless pleading, knowing it’ll be too much to take. “I’ll liquidate your kn-knees. M-make you go septic, with a— with a, _hole_ in your gut, _I’ll—_ “ 

“I’ll fill you up,” Nero promises, cyanide-sweet. “See how much you can take before you start crying.” 

Kane gave a strangled growl, leaning forward to bite into Nero’s neck, but it shifts the angle, deepening the pressure inside of him, and Nero’s knot pushes up enough to start to stretch him, and it leaves him panting, open-mouthed and flush to Nero’s chest. 

“Should I make you call me daddy too?” 

A pause. _“Fuck_ you.”

“I could make you say it,” Nero taunts. “And you would, when you’re like this. All plugged up so it’s nearly painful. I could make you say it like all those too-drunk whores you’ve gotten pregnant.” 

There’s giggling from above, and Kane freezes, humiliation frosting over his spine because Rizka is _awake_ , peering over the edge of their cot, wrapped up in cocoon silk and Kane’s shirt and Nero’s jacket because they’re a dirty little _thief,_ and grinning down at him and Kane suddenly remembers that they’re _royalty,_ a Queen with a haughty personality to match. 

Mischief is written into their smile, giggles spilling-frothing-tripping over their words as they laugh at him; pretty and cruel. “You take so much from me sometimes, its only fair you get taken in return.” 

And _taken_ , is a way to put it, breath snatched from his body, forced to feel the pulses of pleasure at the base of his spine, taken rough and messy and _mean_. 

Rizka’s mean too when they want to be, winding him up and watching him go, letting him get all the anger built up inside of him out, and the— the problem with it is that it doesn’t release the pressure at all does it, just multiples it: loud, hot, lethal anger borne of violence and gunpowder and power fantasies. 

Kane just, snaps sometimes. He feels taken then too— ambitious and hungry and satisfied and hallow all at once the moment he lets the monster out.

Rizka isn’t done with him, not when he can’t look away, humiliation burning hot and petulant in his chest as Nero creates dark stinging bruises at the crook of his neck and shoulder, and when Rizka speaks it’s full of innocent observation. “You take them so well. I’d break if they used me like that.” They tilt their head to the side, mandibles clicking. “It’s like you were _made_ for it.” 

“Shut the fuck up Queenie,” he snarls, anger bubbling out of his throat. “Before I break _you.”_

“You already did that yesterday,” they point out, and its with a happy sigh at the memory. “It’s your turn.” 

And Kane hates getting fucked, he hates it _hates it_ , because he’s reduced to a being someone's little bitch, when he’d much rather be on top, doing anything and everything he wants, but Nero doesn’t let him do that— 

And sometimes, Kane just, snaps. 

“Stop,” he sings, a low baritone that isn’t actually Song so much as it is Power, and Nero stops moving, but their eyes narrow, jaw clenched. 

Kane swallows heavily, and then grins, breathless and giddy with the rush of power. He hadn’t really used it before, on Nero, wasn’t even sure it would work— he can already see them resisting, feel the strain of their hands on his waist, the violent roar building in their chest. 

“You want to stay still for me,” Kane sang, the Siren pull of his species manipulating their body. “Don’t you?”

Retractable claws flex, points digging into his skin, and Kane has a wild hope that they’ll leave scars, just more pinprick freckles to his skin. “Yes,” they say, through gritted teeth. 

“Say yes Captain,” he orders, just because he _could._

Nero, despite it all, still manages to roll their eyes, even as their mouth opens without their consent, lips and teeth and tongue and throat desperate to obey. “Yes. Captain.” 

Kane, thoroughly enjoying himself, sinks back down on their cock, because now he could handle this, could handle getting fucked like this— he needs to wrap up every instance of vulnerability with cruelty instead, turn every act into something terrible, just because he doesn’t know how to process it any other way. Its fucked, he’s so fucked, and Nero’s expression is changing, eyebrows raising into something akin to _understanding_ and _fuck_ Kane might have to throw them out the airlock anyway. 

“Not so smug now, huh?” He teases anyway, trying to bring out the anger he knows is buried inside them too, just to enjoy the frustrated curl of their claws when they can’t move them from his waist. 

“ _Kaaaane_ ,” Rizka pouts from above them, one hand under their blanket. “That’s cheating.” 

“Says the cruelest little brat in the quadrant,” Kane bares his teeth and starts to rock again, fucking himself slowly as he reaches down to run webbed fingers over his cocks. “No one’s going to make a fool of me, sweetheart.” 

Rizka pulls a face at him, but Nero— Nero looks _unbearably_ fond, an exasperated eyebrow raise completing the look, and Kane’s frustration flares, feral-pride and white-hot lust thundering under his skin, and his fingers flex with the urge to tear flesh from bone, to rip the nerves out of their spine and he swears instead, bouncing himself on their cock.

He goes rough, knowing he won’t break, knowing that he can take it, and he brings Nero into a biting kiss, moaning when he smells queenmalt on the air, tell-tale wet sounds coming from Rizka’s cot, clenching around their cock when he sees the fire in Nero’s eyes, the tension in their shoulders as they fight against the Song. 

Nero tries then to get leverage, shifting and tensing, and Kane reacts violently, nails digging into their scalp. 

“Don’t you dare move your hands,” Kane glares, harsh breathes forced from his chest as he brings himself closer to the edge, “Keep your thighs on the bed. I’m the one that gets to use you, got that?” 

“Yes Captain,” and Nero says it of their own volition, and it’s _too damn knowing_ , giving him _permission_ to use them, _permission_ to enjoy their cock and its— it’s too much. He’s not supposed to enjoy this, not really, but he _does_ and Kane falls apart, frantic spasms and pulses and grinding his cocks against Nero’s stomach, feeling the wound-up tightness in his guts unravel as the first egg slips free. 

His control dissipates and Nero’s suddenly fucking into him, bouncing him on his cock as Kane shakes, and they laugh as they pull, pull _pull him_ down onto their knot and Kane’s eyes roll shut and his head falls back and he rides out the after-shocks as Nero comes inside of him, chest vibrating with a particularly predatory-like rumble. 

Nero strokes his ovipositor, coaxing the rest of his eggs out of him, and for a few blurry minutes Kane stays stuck on Nero’s knot, all slick inside and shivering as a cluster of eggs spills between them, warm and sticky and _so goddamn gross._

“You’re cleaning us,” he orders against Nero’s chest, and despite having no power behind it, they obey anyway, lifting them up and off their cock to hold him properly, and they glide across the illuminated floor, pausing a moment to leave a nuzzled kiss on Rizka’s forehead. 

***

“You’re a bastard for doing that you know,” Nero says as they dry Kane off, a grubby towel finding its place back on the floor. 

Kane presses his face into the chrome wall and half-heartedly glares. “You started it by teasing me.” 

Nero scoffs. “It was nothing you didn’t deserve.”

“Like you’re any better,” Kane’s eyes were slipping closed, the membrane of his second eyelid peaking out, showcasing his exhaustion. “I’ve seen what you can do.” 

“You’ve know what I’ve done,” they whisper back after a few sobering seconds, sharp under the playful tone. “But you have no idea what I’ll do next. That’s the point of me, the purpose of my kind.” _You shouldn't trust me._

“Chaos sure, big deal.” Kane replies, and its grumbly again, rough and low. “You still get groceries when I ask you to though, so, guess you’re worth keepin’ ‘round.” 

Nero finishes drying off in silence, unsure of what they were supposed to do with that. 

Kane’s snoring into Nero’s shoulder by the time they get him into their bed— a cleaner cot to curl up in, where they can grin up at Rizzy, who fell asleep with three sticky fingers still inside them. 

Nero nuzzles Kane, who was worn out and fucked out and _finally_ asleep, finally out of that pilot’s chair and Nero feels something like _contentment_ blossom in their chest, bright in their bones, and so unbearably _peaceful_ that their very nature rebels against it as if they’d been shocked. 

They were in _love._

Nero stills and waits for something, anything— surely this realization would warrant some sort of reaction out of the universe, especially when it felt like all of their defenses were crashing down around them because this was _Kane and Rizka_. But nothing happens. They instead watch the rise and fall of breath, inhale the scent of _home_ , and fight the urge to ruin the one good thing they have. 

They firmly do not think about how they will eventually have to leave. They firmly do not think about how desperately they want to covet their precious few weeks together, just the three of them. 

Nero slips out of bed and into the cockpit, and they drag one careful claw across the screen of the console, adding an extra day to their trip. 

Nothing wrong with taking the long way around. 

Even better to see the look on Kane’s face. 

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative title was "local fish man creates intricate rituals to justify bottoming."


End file.
